


Cooperation

by onesickmind



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Captor/Captive, Dievin, Dom/sub, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Pre-Strex Kevin, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onesickmind/pseuds/onesickmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diego is given an employee to correct. How long can they maintain a balance between torture and love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New

**Author's Note:**

> I'm mainly using videntefernandez's ( http://videntefernandez.tumblr.com/ ) versions of Diego and Kevin, though in my headcanon Kevin has much more feral origins with Desert Bluffs.

“We need you to make this one cooperative, Diego. Our standard methods have failed and we hear you are quite persuasive.”

Diego rolled the conversation around in his head as he drove. He decided he was thoroughly irritated. He actually had no skill in “correcting” people; anyone who did not conform to his expectations was shot on sight, which was why he had such a tightly run and cooperative department. But the order came from the Vice CEO, so he just sighed inwardly and accepted yet another tedious task as part of his job.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and pulled into the grocery store. The deviant had been delivered directly to his home-- he understood the cage would be sitting in the middle of his living room when he arrived-- so he'd be totally responsible for his care. And he was already completely, shamefully out of limes and, as he ran through his kitchen's inventory in his head, most staple foods. He'd been quite busy lately and had taken to eating out rather than cooking himself breakfast and dinner. But bringing takeaway home to a guest would be utterly vulgar.

Diego ran the checklist through his head as he tested the freshness of endives. Feed him, bathe him, clothe him, restrain him, torture him. The supermarket was comprehensively stocked and he picked up a few supplies for each category, except the clothes. He'd have to see the person to know his size.

When Diego found himself stopping at Sisco's to have his nails manicured for his guest, he realized he was stalling. The truth was, Diego admitted to few weaknesses, but deep down he knew people skills was one of them. He had something between a pet, a prisoner, and a guest waiting for him in his living room, and he just didn't know how to approach that. Not without a shiny jeweled gun that could dispose of any social slip-ups for him. He gave the manicurist a half-hearted tip and steeled himself to drive the rest of the way home. A living thing was waiting for him; the dread and anticipation battled each other within his stomach.

The lights had been turned off; as he stepped into the living room, he saw the dim outline of the 4x4 foot square cage and heard something large shifting inside it. He found his heart was pounding; he clutched the groceries to his chest and tried to think of something that was at once polite, intimidating, dominating, and welcoming to say.

He turned on his light and regarded the man in the little cage. The employee immediately began to snarl and thrash at his handcuffs at the sight of Diego. Oh, the standard program had not worked at all. This Desert Bluffer was still totally feral. His business clothes were disheveled and the grin cut into his face made him look manic rather than friendly. He was caked in blood and feces; they hadn't cleaned him between torturing him and delivering him to Diego's home, and Diego made a mental note to kill whoever had been responsible.

But that was besides the point at the moment. Right now, he had a pet to bathe, a guest to feed, and a prisoner to torture. But first, the greeting.

Diego stood in front of the cage. “Hello.”

The employee snarled and crouched against the back of the cage, teeth bared. No, the surgically imposed smile acted only to enhance the effect of a mouth that was ready to rip his throat out.

“I am Diego, CEO of the Science Department,” Diego said, the ludicrousness of this task of correcting an employee becoming painfully voiced with the words. “And you?”

Diego knew who he was-- he had reviewed the file-- but polite conversation had a way it had to progress. When the employee merely snarled and snapped at him, he produced his jeweled gun and leveled it at his head.

“I'm afraid I didn't hear that.”

The employee showed no increase in fear at the sight of the gun. He just remained in place and continued to snarl and bare his teeth.

Diego's already deep grimace sank further when he realized he was now holding an empty threat. Well, perhaps not so empty-- he had to appear inflexible, or he would never get anywhere. He shot the employee in the shoulder and said, “Answer when you are spoken to.”

The man, predictably, cried out at the injury, and fell to the bottom of the cage, writhing. His breath hissed through his teeth for a few moments, and then he said, “Just kill me, you spineless Strex pisstube.”

“Oh, good, you can talk,” said Diego, pacing around the cage with his gun again drawn. “So do answer me. I'm Diego. What is your name?”

He managed to pull himself to his knees and stared up at him from a bowed head, looking utterly feral. “Desert Bluffs was founded on blood of our fathers two centuries ago. The ground you walk on is soaked in human sacrifice. Your corporation has no place here.”

Diego shot him again, just below the knee. He howled and fell over. “Answer the question,” Diego repeated. Assert dominance. Impose control.

"Fuck you," the employee snarled.

Well, he had painted himself into a corner now, hadn't he? He'd have to bandage the prisoner before he continued, or he'd bleed out.

He put the groceries away to give blood loss some time to calm the employee down. He'd have to bathe him, too, before he could handle him. He inwardly cursed the Vice CEO for dumping this problem in his lap. Kitchen chore complete, he drew a bath and returned to the living room.

The employee had indeed found peace in the lack of blood in his body, and was now breathing shallowly on the bottom of the cage floor. Diego regarded him, then decided to remove his clothes so they wouldn't get soiled. Nudity was not exactly a garment of choice for a guest, but neither were the paint clothes that would be the only piece of his wardrobe he was willing to come in contact with this filth. Nudity was typically not worn in front of an enemy, either, but with a body like the one Diego had, he did not look vulnerable. He was like a greek god, muscular, hung, intimidating. He strode confidently to the cage and the captive's weakened eyes locked on to his form while his shallow breathing quickened.

Diego tried to think of something sinister to say about the bubble bath he was about to drag his captive to, but nothing came to mind, so he settled on stony silence.

The employee lay still as he opened the cage, breath still weak and quick, eyes still locked on his captor, lip barely lifted in a snarl.

It was when Diego dragged him onto the floor that he began to thrash and fight, like a switch had been flipped. He screamed like an unholy terror and kicked with his bound feet and tossed his head and snapped and bucked. Diego ordered him to stay still, and when compliance did not come, strangled him until he was nearly unconscious. In the struggle, Diego was bruised. He would have to make the prisoner pay for that later.

The employee was blinking and moaning softly as Diego stripped him, re-fastened the cuffs around his ankles and wrists, and lifted him into the bath. The long-sleeved business shirt and slacks had been concealing hundreds of marks from previous attempts to correct him: cuts, burns, bruises. Bumps under his skin suggested places bones had been fractured and knocked out of place. The telltale scars from electrodes were all over his throat. Scars disfigured his crotch. A pair of metal rings were implanted in the iliac crests of his hips-- these were unusual. He squeezed a pair of fingers into them and tugged.

The prisoner immediately got a distant look of dissociation. His stare went blank and his form went limp, nearly catatonic.

No wonder the torture was ineffective, if he could escape like this. Diego released the rings and dug his fingers into the bullet wound in his shoulder. He yelped and came back around.

With the extent of these injuries, Diego was frankly surprised he was still alive. Then he chided himself for doubting the ability of the Quality Control Department; despite their poor attention to detail in delivering the subject unwashed to Diego's home, and their utter failure to break him, they did know how to keep a victim writhing for as long as they liked. The number of accidental deaths was near zero.

The blood and filth almost immediately turned the water the color of rust. Diego used it to wash the man off anyway, dipping in a washcloth and gently cleansing the scabs and dried filth from his shoulders, arms, and chest. He had regained consciousness but did not resist. The blood loss had really calmed him, or perhaps it was because he, too, really wanted to be clean.

Diego wiped his cheek and smiled at him. “There. That's much better.”

The man made an odd whimpering sound and locked his eyes on Diego's face. Diego continued to smile at him. “I appreciate your cooperation. Keep giving it to me, and we'll have something resembling a pleasant time together.” He dabbed blood from the corner of his mouth. The employee parted his lips slightly to allow him access to the scabs across his bitten lips.

“Ahh, yes, that's much better,” Diego crooned with an approving smile as his captive let him press the cloth against his mouth without trying to bite him.

“Kevin.”

"Hmm?" Diego asked.

His voice was soft and empty of resentment. “My name is Kevin R. Free. The Voice of Desert Bluffs.”

Diego's smile burst into something genuine at this surprisingly quick obedience. Kevin whimpered again.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Kevin. I think we'll be getting along nicely.”

Kevin gave him no further fight as he drained the tub and re-filled it to do a second, less blood-filled wash. He was still actively bleeding, but at least the previous filth was not clogging up the water. Diego rinsed Kevin thoroughly, laid some towels on the floor, and gingerly placed him on top of them.

He patted his cleaned body dry, careful with the areas where fresh blood leaked from his wounds: the two bullet wounds in his leg and shoulder, as well as other gashes that had opened up with handling. After the weeks of pain Kevin had been subjected to, his breath only caught and whimpered slightly from the feeling of bullet holes.

Diego wasn't exactly nurturing, but he found himself smiling kindly at Kevin as he placed his hand on his knee. “This is going to hurt,” he said, “but it's for your own good.”

“I know what you mean,” Kevin said.

He dug the bullet out of Kevin's knee with only involuntary cries and jerks in response-- no deliberate fighting. The bullet had gone clean through his shoulder.

Diego squeezed antibiotic into the wounds, taped gauze over them, and wrapped everything up in generous lengths of clean, white bandages. Around his knee, arms, shoulder, and torso. Some could be covered up, but others would need stitches.

Then he got dressed and paced a little over the cleaned and bandaged body that lay passively on the towels on his bathroom floor.

Kevin blinked slowly at him, refreshed but still weak. His cleaned skin made the hundreds of wounds stand out in starker contrast, and stretched out like that, his thinness and ribs were plainly revealed. He'd been starved, of course. Although it looked like this subject was even more underweight than a normal trainee. Well, Diego's manners didn't allow him to starve a house guest. But first, he knelt again and tended to the wounds from Quality Control.

Kevin again only gasped and jumped a little at the sensitive areas being prodded. It took nearly two hours, gingerly disinfecting, sewing, and bandaging the spots that had been left weeping and raw. Diego appreciated Kevin's docility and told him so, receiving only a whimper and a reddening of the face in response to his approving smile.

He supposed Kevin wanted to have these wounds treated.

“Uh,” Kevin said as Diego taped up the last of his cuts and leaned back to review his body a final time. “Um... What did you say your name was?”

Diego flashed a grimace at him. “Diego.”

“Diego,” Kevin repeated, and Diego's name sounded like honey on the radio host's tongue. “Thank you.”

Diego wasn't sure how to respond to that. He realized with a sinking stomach that he had totally failed to present himself as an intimidating and deadly prison warden but instead as “nice.” But he did not miss the fact that Kevin was more cooperative and civil with him now than the report indicated he ever had been.

“You like how I'm treating you?” he asked, cupping his chin to tilt and study his face.

The fear that Kevin had been taught to feel at every juncture during his imprisonment showed in his eyes, but he nodded humbly, warily trusting.

“All I want is your cooperation, Kevin R. Free. Give it to me, and I will have no reason to treat you with anything less than perfect civility.”

Kevin nodded again, humble, docile, cautiously trusting. Cheeks flushed.

“Are you hungry?”

**

Kevin sat bound to the dining room chair while Diego made a quick dinner. He had found a pair of pajama pants with an elastic waistband that fit him, as well as a Strex t-shirt that was a bit too small for Diego but didn't look too loose on Kevin's emaciated frame.

He knew Desert Bluffers primarily ate meat-- and by “primarily,” that meant raw meat, organs, blood, and nothing else-- and he compromised by cooking up three large chicken breasts with chopped vegetables, wine, and garlic. He made a side of pasta for himself.

He put one breast and the pasta on the plate for himself, and plated the other two for his starved guest. He had been planning on sitting next to Kevin and feeding him by hand, but the moment the plate touched the table, the Desert Bluffer leaned down, snagged a chicken breast in his teeth, tossed his head back and swallowed it in one gulp.

Diego lifted his finger to chide Kevin, intent on insisting on good manners, with a gun if necessary, but before he could find his words, Kevin had cleaned and licked his plate. He looked at Diego with grateful eyes and said again, “Thank you.”

Diego decided to shrug it off. In Kevin's mind, he was not being disrespectful, and it was deliberate disrespect that needed correction. He had seen Desert Bluffers eat before, and what Kevin had just done actually very closely approximated normal table manners.

Diego began to eat his own portion, but, seeing Kevin's eyes on him still full of hunger, got up and sauteed some more meat for him, this time two pan steaks, rare. As he set them down, he realized he could have gotten away with serving them raw. Well, there was no reason for him to compromise his own civility for the sake of his guest.

Kevin thanked him before and after swallowing the meat, then lapped water from his glass. Diego got up and held the cup to his lips; he drained it, and Diego got him some more. He knew he wouldn't be too dehydrated; Quality Control typically used IV's and there had been marks from one in Kevin's arm.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Kevin moaned, skilled voice well expressing his gratitude.

“Just cooperate,” Diego reinforced to him. “You'll only see this side of me when you behave. And please do note, what I did to you with the gun was mild punishment.”

Kevin nodded.

“Now, let's discuss the radio station,” Diego said, returning to his half-eaten meal. Kevin did not look hungry anymore, so he felt comfortable eating in front of him. “You've been given scripts. You need to read them with a confident, cheerful voice with no hint of resentment towards Strexcorp.”

“I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't do that.”

Diego's eyes flashed and he set his fork down. His gun came out.

“That is not the response I was looking for.”

Kevin gritted his teeth. Belly full, body washed, wounds wrapped, face flushed, he averted his eyes from Diego's and said humbly, “I'm sorry. I will cooperate with you the best I can, but I won't betray my town. Torture me if you like. I won't fight back.”

“I will,” Diego said.

It was surprisingly hard to wrestle a body that did not fight or resist him at all. All his victims before had at least struggled and screamed. But Kevin was totally unresisting as Diego dragged him to the basement door. Diego himself didn't feel particularly angry or violent, but Kevin's refusal to do his job was precisely what Diego was charged with correcting. It was almost hard to kick him down the stairs with him being so docile, but Diego managed.

He figured the basement was the place he was most willing to stain with blood. He put down some newspapers while Kevin groaned softly from his tumble down the stairs.

“What to do to you,” Diego muttered as he paced around the bound figure he'd stripped and dragged onto the newspapers. “Clearly Quality Control's methods didn't work. And clearly, being kind to you didn't work.” Kevin cried out a little at that one. “So what do I have left?”

It was a rhetorical question, but when Kevin didn't answer, he pulled him up by the hair and said, “Well?”

“Nothing. You have nothing left. I'll die for my town. Nothing you do will make me side with Strex against Desert Bluffs.” His words were resistant, but his tone was apologetic. His gaze on Diego was soft, not defiant. Then, he finished with, “I'm sorry.”

With a viciousness Diego did not feel, he threw Kevin down. His head cracked against the hard floor.

“I won't feed you again,” Diego said matter-of-factly. “I won't bathe you again. I'll treat you worse than Quality Control did. And if you don't reform from the torture? That just means you'll be tortured a very, very long time. And I am extremely good at torture. You will lose your skin and extremities. Who knows how long it will be before Strexcorp gives up on you; I'll keep you here until you die of old age if the order to terminate you never comes.”

Kevin whimpered a little, and buried his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes. But he still said, “Then that's my fate. There's nothing I can do about it.”

Curled up like that, stalwart but cringing in fright, dim light dulling the flaws laid across his skin, Kevin looked... Diego blinked and shook his head, but the illusion didn't pass. Kevin looked sexy. Kevin had a sexy body-- underweight and injured, but beneath that, a good form, and an attractive face. And something about the way he twisted submissively in his bonds but refused to both cooperate and escape punishment... well, that did something do him. To a part of him that was low on his body.

He had little anger, little urge to lash violently into that inoffensive body. But he thought he could manage--

“I'll rape you,” he said.

Kevin gasped, and the look on his face was more aroused than frightened. Diego was slightly taken aback.

Kevin curled up and looked away. “I've already been raped.”

Diego knelt and thrust his hand between Kevin's stomach and thighs; he found he was half-hard. He withdrew his hand.

“You want me?” His voice was mildly surprised.

He heard Kevin swallow and try to steady his breathing. “I don't,” he said. “But... you are attractive. And the the only person to show me kindness in a very long time. So... it's natural that I would... instantly fall...” He shook his head. “You're the enemy. I could never love you.”

Diego pushed his hand around his erection again, and he cried out. He again withdrew. “I'll keep that in mind,” he growled thoughtfully.

Diego then lit into Kevin with a standard torture program, because what else could he do? He had promised him pain in exchange for a refusal to give his cooperation on the air, and even though it was clearly a useless endeavor, he had to stay true to his word. After he had Kevin screaming for a few hours, though, he didn't follow through on his threat to starve him. With Kevin limp and bleeding all over the newspapers, Diego again removed his clothes, and pulled him into his lap to place water and another steak in front of his mouth. Kevin lapped and snapped it up with another grateful, “Thank you.”

Diego bathed him quickly and bandaged his fresh wounds. They didn't have any further dialogue; both were exhausted from what had turned into a very long day.

As Diego dragged Kevin back to his cage, he realized how filthy it was. The chore of cleaning it was one Diego did not want to touch. So instead, he carried him to a guest room, one with an attached bathroom, and cuffed his hands in front so he would be able to use it and clean himself.

He laid him, still groaning softly from the fresh torture, on the soft bed. Kevin fell almost instantly asleep.


	2. Docile

Things did not go as planned.

Diego planned to wrestle with Kevin at every turn. He planned to steel himself against an onslaught of profanity. But instead,  
Kevin was cooperative and lacked resentment. He even hopped onto the torture table himself, and raised his arms to the restraints. A couple times, he had even held end of a rope to help him tie his bonds. Once in pain, once in blinding agony, sometimes struggling and begging was something he could not help. Kevin had cut himself on the same bonds he had placed his wrist in and and helped secure. But at the end, when he was released, he always slumped into Diego's arms with no sign of violence or escape.

Diego stayed up late, very late, as it was after Kevin had been tortured, washed, stitched, and put to bed, reading his file. Every report included references to violent outbursts, attacks on his captors, bared teeth, constant insults, and irreverent backtalk. Even when receiving some kind of relief, like food or time to rest in his cell, he often sacrificed it for the sake of being contrary. Throwing hot soup at a trainer, biting the medic suturing a wound, shouting long into the night instead of catching sleep between sessions… Diego checked the name at the top of each page several times, to make sure he had the right file.

It HAD to be the fact he was just plain civil. Strex Trainers had the tendency to dehumanize their trainees at all costs; after being thrown around like a sack of potatoes, kicked, sworn at, and recorded like a set of numbers, it was no wonder Kevin would feel offended and react out of a grudge. This cooperation was likely a display of appreciation for the fact that, outside of torture sessions, Diego treated him with respect. Respect earns respect, disrespect earns… well, a bullet, if Diego's on the other end, but in most cases, disrespect earns disrespect in turn.

Of course, it could just be that Kevin saw he was in better conditions than before, and didn't want to lose it. From the injuries on his body, he had been through utter hell. The cuts, the broken bones, the rape… his attitude had angered his trainers to go above and beyond the standard job.

But Diego just couldn't shake the feeling that there was a cue in Kevin's behavior that he was missing.

***

"We have a distinguished addition to our meeting today. Diego?"

"Thank you."

"As our high-ranking guest, Diego has the first turn."

"Thank you. I was charged with the training of Kevin R. Free ten days ago. There are extreme discrepancies between his report and his actual behavior I would like guidance on."

"Proceed."

"Reports indicate the subject was 'resistant at every opportunity' and records numerous incidents of assault, aggressive language, and gross disobedience. However, I find him to be docile, passive, and cooperative. While the subject continues to refuse to return to his position as the Voice of Desert Bluffs, no other resistant behaviors are shown."

"How many seconds were you two face to face before you shot him?"

"Forty."

"Does anyone at the table have further input for Mr. Diego?"

Everyone stared in silence.

"Look," Diego said. "This subject is utterly docile. The records appear to be totally inaccurate."

"You're telling me he showed no aggression at all?"

"Well, in the very beginning, yes. He was snarling and shouting anti-Strex statements."

"Did this continue after you shot him?"

"… not really, no."

"Mr. Diego, we of course respect your request for feedback. But I believe that's the long and short of it. You were chosen because of your ruthless intimidation. It is clear this is working."

Another member said, "I advise continuing your course. Cooperation in training is a step towards cooperation on the job."

***

They settled into a pattern over the next few weeks, with Diego binding Kevin at the table for meals and then torturing him viciously when he politely refused Diego's order to broadcast for Strex. Diego got some equipment-- a table, suspension system, and instruments. He liked to tie Kevin in stress positions and leave him strained for hours while he cut, burned, and beat him. Kevin would struggle and howl mindlessly at the pain, but he still never fought on his way to or from the basement.

Diego did not touch the rings in his hips. The look of total disconnect Kevin got was not something he knew how to deal with yet.

Kevin had just enough freedom of movement to bathe himself when he was locked in his suite, but Diego still had to get naked and wash him off after the more intense torture sessions. It was becoming more and more obvious how painfully hard Kevin got when Diego's hands were on his naked body, and, as Kevin's body filled back out to a healthy weight from the regular meals, Diego was finding himself having to shift to hide an erection of his own when he was nude.

He had not had intercourse with Kevin yet. He was waiting to figure out how to use it to manipulate his captive.

There was a certain companionship in the torture sessions. An understanding. A shared activity in which both participants reluctantly accepted their roles and were mildly sympathetic to the helplessness of the other in his inability to do otherwise. They were both stuck in the orders of Strex: Kevin to be corrected and Diego to correct him, given the tool of torture that had already proven inadequate for completing the job. So, it seemed, their fate would stretch on forever.

Then Kevin kissed him, and he realized that there were two men here who had a choice about loyalty to make.

Diego had entered his room to bring him to dinner and, in all likelihood, a subsequent torture session when he again refused to give himself to Strex. He was sitting on the bed and asked Diego to sit next to him. Politely, of course, so politely that Diego complied.

And Kevin said things to him. He used that honeyed voice of his and told him with helpless sincerity that made his chest hurt that he loved him. He loved his perfect hair and beautiful smile. Hands and feet bound, body covered in bandages and scars, he told him that he had been in love since the moment Diego first smiled at him.

And it had been so sweet and genuine and free of the terrified coldness that defined all of Diego's other interpersonal relationships that he had no idea how to react. Diego's social skill was shooting people with his gun. And here sat someone who had been nothing but gentle and warm to Diego even as he was subjected to more cumulative pain than Diego had ever inflicted on anyone else.

Diego had no idea how to react. But Kevin saved him from that; he leaned forward, bound hands in his lap, and touched his lips to Diego's. So gentle, sweet, submissive. Compliant in all ways but that one-- and so apologetic for that one. So Diego cupped the back of his head and let his body tell him what to do.

He had never kissed a prostitute with such care. A business transaction was all sex had ever been, but this was different, and his lips and tongue behaved differently. He kissed Kevin gently, sweetly, making his touch soft against the bitten, cut, and bruised lips. He licked Kevin's teeth for permission to enter his mouth and was granted it. Their mouths sealed together and tongues met to swirl around each other like lovers more tender than any either man had known.

Diego carefully lowered Kevin onto his back.

He was treating him gingerly, like a glass filled with cracks, but it was not just because Kevin's body really was injured and needed to be touched with care. It felt like he could not possibly touch him any other way, even if he were in perfect condition. Kevin kissed him so tenderly, made noises with such gratitude and warmth, that how could he possibly be handled as anything other than a butterfly wing.

Diego unfastened his handcuffs to remove his shirt, then refastened his wrists to the headboard. Kevin let out his first loud moan as Diego kissed his neck and brushed his fingers over his chest. Kissed his chest and brushed his fingers over his belly. Kissed his belly and slipped his fingers just beneath the waistband of his pants.

"Is this okay?" Diego asked, as he slipped Kevin's pants down and gently kneaded his crotch.

"Mm-hmm. Yes," Kevin gasped.

Diego pulled his pants all the way off.

He took the time to lay more caresses and tiny kisses all over Kevin's body, and soon he was moaning with as little control as he screamed in the basement. Diego knew his body intimately already, knew the most sensitive areas and the spots that made him squirm. These were the ones most brutally covered in marks, but now he touched them softly, and kissed them, and tried to make them okay.

Kevin's hips bucked gently. Diego feathered one hand up the inside of his legs and slid a finger between the cheeks of his rump.

"Have you done this before?" he asked.

"Mmh… Yes. Yes."

"Tell me if it's not alright."

Diego nudged his tight ring, and pressed inside.

"It's good… Ahh… hahh.."

"Shhh," Diego soothed. He rubbed Kevin's side. Kevin whimpered and tugged at his handcuffs. Tried to twist.

"Diego… kiss me."

Diego did, letting his body heat hover close to him, adding a second finger now and moving them slowly back and forth. Kevin kissed back furiously, his mouth the only part of his body with the opportunity to contact Diego's. His tongue did everything it could to make up for the immobility of his hands, his lips for the inability of his arms to embrace his lover.

Diego sat back for a few moments to spread more lubricant on his fingers. He pulled one of Kevin's legs over his shoulder.

"Diego… I love you. I do. I know it doesn't make sense. I know you must think I've gone insane. That I'd get psychologically dependent on any captor. But I've loved you since you first smiled. Diego. Ahmm, yes, please, yes, Diego, I want you. Want you inside me. Ahhh…"

Kevin's soft words of devotion continued as he stretched him and positioned himself. Damn, he was hard, but Kevin's own erection was barely half way there. Somewhat discolored. Diego stroked him a few times, and he jerked.

"I… I can't, unh, Diego, just… go inside me… don't worry about… just… go in, please, want you in me…"

"Does that hurt you?" He asked, taking his hand away.

"No, it just… can't… I'm, I'm injured, I can't… can't really feel and I can't… ahh, just go inside me! Want you in me. Want to be filled."

Diego made the ritual first of leaning over him, and claiming his mouth again. Then, with Kevin's moans aimed directly down his throat, he pushed himself in.

Kevin gasped and thrusted back. Relaxed and tightened himself around him, sensually. Put all of his touches into those two orifices, his rim and his mouth, tried to make Diego feel half of what he felt.

Diego tried touching him again, tried stimulating his dick and his balls, but he said again, "Just kiss me."

"Can you orgasm? Or you don't want to?"

"I can't! Just.. please… I want you. Want to feel you. I love you. Please, just touch me, don't worry about that, I want you here, touch me, come in me."

Diego let his mind slide back, and only noticed the sensations. Kevin's entrance, tight around him. The feel of the warm body undulating beneath him. The smell of carefully washed skin. The feel of Kevin's desperate kisses and the sound of his constant moans. It was hard to let go. It was hard to release. But he got the rhythm going, and Kevin was just so perfect beneath him, so yielding and vulnerable and safe, and he found the orgasm build, and approach, and with lusty screams pouring down his throat, he came.

He came, and Kevin groaned. He stretched and savored the feeling of Diego's hot cum.

"Mmm… Diego… hold me."

Diego was not a cuddler, but he wanted to do anything, absolutely anything for Kevin. He let himself go flaccid inside him, let Kevin's insides feel the changing texture, and then pulled out and laid beside him, cheek on his shoulder and arm over his chest.

"I love you," Kevin whispered to him.

"Hmmm," Diego acknowledged. Sleepy, now. He placed his hand on Kevin's crotch. "Are you too injured to orgasm?"

"Yeah. They, ah. You can see where my testicles are torn. Nothing can come up. And the nerve damage to my, umm, penis is too deep, too extensive. Patchy, actually. Some spots… they're the same as before. But. I mean, I've tried. I just can't."

"Does it bother you to have them touched?"

"Not really."

"And what about--" Diego brushed his hand over the rings in his hips.

Kevin stiffened. "Don't," he said tightly.

Diego's hand was instantly off. "Okay."

Diego listened to Kevin's rough breathing even out, waited for his stiff and slightly shaking body to relax. It didn't take long. Kevin finally sighed and melted against Diego.

"I want you to be here like this again."

"I will."

Silence stretched in comfort, but they both knew what was waiting to be said.

"It's… almost time."

It was almost time for dinner. But dinner was always followed by another activity.

"I'm not whoring myself out for relief."

Diego pushed himself up and kissed Kevin's forehead. "I'll make you something special to eat tonight. But our routine can't change."

"No."

"Kevin… I can't…"

"Don't spend time getting me something special to eat. Just hold me a few minutes longer."

"All right."

They laid together, Kevin nuzzling Diego's hair and Diego tracing soft circles on Kevin's cheek.

Then Diego fed Kevin and tortured him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! You guys have no idea how long I've been sitting on that scene. And I've finally fixed it up and gotten it published. Please comment, it keeps me going!

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Hated it? Want to tell me all your hopes, dreams, fears, and nightmares? This is where I shamelessly ask for comments.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up soon!


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